Burn Me if You Can by Mahalia Levey

Chapter One
    San Juan’s reputation for beauty was accurate. From the moment they touched ground and she’d gotten her first good look, she’d been mesmerized. Tucked away from the stifling heat in a posh limousine, she appreciated the little luxuries, such as air conditioning. When she heard of the opportunity offered by Madame Evangeline from a close friend, ambition drove her to say yes. So many dotcoms deluded people into thinking they could find a life-mate with their help.
    As she sat in the plush interior of the car, she sipped a flute of champagne to take the edge off and center herself.
    Newsflash: The concept of finding a “happy forever” with one person went out the window decades ago. Those who believed in love at first sight were simply confused by a hefty dose of lust. She should know. No bam moment had ever made her breathless. No first touch had her made her scream, Hallelujah! He’s the one! In any event, Rebekah finally had the chance to do an expose that would land her a syndicated column—if she could get the goods. Her interview went well. She didn’t hide that she worked for the newspaper but didn’t allude to her aspirations either. The application itself was insanely detailed. At one point, she thought she should type out a resume. The outlandish thought had made her laugh. Essentially, the matchmaking businesses of the world were human resource departments trying to fill a quota. She completed everything to the best of her knowledge and included a recent picture of herself.
    Madam Eve had handpicked her date. Soon, she’d be face-to-face with Ashton Foster. His profile, like, dislikes, etc. all called to her, and his charismatic face had made an imprint on her mind.
    She wondered if he had some mental issue; what was wrong with him that he needed to meet a date on a website. But after reading the intelligent, handsome man’s profile, she couldn’t wait to meet him. The only thing that seemed off to her was his vague job title. In the job section of his profile, he talked more about his day-to-day activities than what he did professionally, and that threw up 1

    Mahalia Levey
    warning flags. Rebekah finished her wine and set the flute in the compartment provided for used glasses.
    Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the lush landscape zipping past them. With a subtle crane of her neck, she took in the colonial architecture of the island and the green vegetation lining the narrow road.
    “We’ll be pulling up shortly, Ms. Shayne.”
    “Thank you.” She adjusted her outfit to insure the tiny microphone remained tucked securely in the pretty bow decorating her bra, snuggly between her breasts. Deciding on the proper attire hadn’t been easy. She’d wrestled with business casual slacks paired with a seductive top, a CFM—come fuck me—dress, or a casual dress hugging her curves and showing off her legs. Not wanting to come off as classless, she chose the last. The private jet to San Juan had excited her. No one had told her such an extravagant ride was part of the package, or that her date location had changed from Vegas to San Juan until a week before her scheduled departure. In fact, she didn’t know what would occur upon her arrival in San Juan. Her boss’s personal assistant handled the arrangements for her trip to the Castillo Resort. Researching the popular Cuban resort, with its colonial architecture and lush grounds gave her insight into the history of the Castillo family-owned resorts. Jackson Castillo’s photo currently graced the brochures for the chain. The small, three-page fold out detailed the history of the Castillo empire. Jackson was a first-generation American citizen whose parents had immigrated to the United States from Cuba many years before. Aside from that small amount of personal intel, the rest of what she was able to turn up remained business oriented, denoting star quality accommodations, consumer ratings, and relevant awards.
    Finding out she’d be